


Meet-Mingle-Mate

by RebaK1tten



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Stiles, M/M, Mentions of Derek/Braeden - Freeform, Omega Peter, Talia wants her family to have mates, meet cute, third gender alphas and omegas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 09:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10435050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: There’s at least a dozen places Peter would rather be than in a line waiting to get into a hotel ball room for the Beacon County “Meet-Mingle-Mate” convention. Like having a root canal. Or drinking a mountain ash smoothie.Peter accompanies Cora to a event so she can meet an eligible Alpha and gets roped into joining her.





	

There’s at least a dozen places Peter would rather be than in a line waiting to get into a hotel ball room for the Beacon County “Meet-Mingle-Mate” convention. Like having a root canal. Or drinking a mountain ash smoothie. It’s not like he hates the hotel; he’s stayed there before, at least for a couple of enjoyable hours.

Cora turns to him, looking only slightly green, and says, “Thanks for coming with me, Uncle Peter. I don’t know if I would have done this without support.”

“Not a problem, Cora, you know you’re my favorite relative,” Peter tells her, giving her neck a squeeze. “In fact you may be one of the few people I can tolerate at all.”

She turns to him, with the Hale family smirk and says, “High praise from you indeed. Tell me again why you don’t have a mate.”

Peter guides her a step forward in the line. “Well we can’t all be as fortunate as you. And I’m sorry your mother is pressuring you, I think she just wants you to be as happy as your brother, now that he has his true, Alpha mate.”

“Oh god, please.” She bats her eyelashes and simpers, “My mate is so pretty! My mate is so smart and so strong!”

Peter whispers in her ear, “My mate has a big dick.”

Cora laughs and slaps his arm, “That is something I never want to think about. And thankfully, something Derek’s never said, at least not where I can hear it.”

“He doesn’t need to say it, Braeden’s pants are practically painted on.” He turns her around and gives her a push. “Okay, one more and then you’re next.”

“Ugh, I hope I don’t throw up. You know, you’re the reason Mom wants everyone to have a mate,” she says, nervously running a hand through her hair, even though it’s already smooth.

“Really? Why do you say that?” he asks, genuinely curious about his sister’s opinion. He can’t imagine she’s said anything to her children that she hasn’t said to his face.

Cora rolls her eyes and says, “I’ve heard her refer to you as ‘my man-whore brother’ at least once.”

Peter snorts and preens a little, rather proud of himself. Talia’s generally careful about keeping a calm façade and he likes to ruffle her feathers. “First, rude. And also inaccurate. A whore provides a service in exchange for money. Much like a hairdresser. Or lawyer. I’ve never taken money. I am a slut, not a whore.”

“I’ll be sure to correct her next time. Oh, god, I’m up.” She tugs her shirt down, puts her shoulders back and steps forward towards the woman behind a podium.

“Hello and welcome, are you pre-registered and what’s your name?” the woman, Julie, according to her name tag, asks.

“Cora Hale,” she replies, nodding. “I’m registered, yes.”

“Great.” Julie pulls out a tablet, and hands it to Cora, then looks at Peter. “And are you registered, too?”

“No. No, I’m not, I’m just here for moral support,” Peter answers, taking a step to the side.

Cora turns to him and gives him a toothy grin. “Uncle Peter, you should do this, too. think how happy it’ll make Mom. And if not happy, it’ll at least confuse her.”

Julie smiles and holds out a clipboard with a piece of paper attached. “I can register you pretty quickly.”

“For me? Please?” Cora coaxes. “My treat, I’ll even pay. I know you like that.”

“Fine,” Peter tells both of them, reaching for the pack of papers and tablet Julie’s holding out with a theatrical huff. “Consider this your birthday present.”

 

After they finish their registration, they take their tablets, loaded with a detailed questionnaire ready to complete, and try to find an out-of-the-way seat.

The ballroom has round tables each seating eight people. There’s bottles of water in the middle of each table along with small signs that say either “Alpha,” “Beta” or “Omega.”

“Come on, this table’s empty,” Cora says, grabbing Peter’s arm and pulling him to an Omega table towards the back of the room.

He rolls his eyes and sits down, saying, “And already with the labels. Really, this is why I don’t like doing these things.”

“I know, I know. But you’re being great about it and you’ll make Mom happy, too.”

“It’s what I live for,” Peter tells her, scrolling down the questions on his tablet. “On a scale of 1 to 5, with 5 being the highest, how important is religion to you?” he reads. “Hmm, how do they define religion?”

“They ask what your religious beliefs are,” Cora answers, pointing out a question above the one Peter read. “Stop skipping around.”

“Hmm, do they have pagan?” he mutters, looking at the tablet. “Look at this, did you see the choices we have for ‘What sex are you looking for in a mate’? And the only choices for us are Alpha or Beta. What if I want to cuddle up to a sweet, little Omega.”

There’s a snort behind him and a voice says, “Yeah, well, I don’t have an Alpha option, even if I wanted one. But it could be worse, I guess. I have a friend who went to something like this in Atlanta and her questionnaire only gave her the option to pick a male. She was a bit annoyed.”

Peter turns around to see a young man, probably in his twenties, with a lush mouth, dark hair and dark eyes, and a smattering of moles. He’s wearing a red t-shirt with a plaid shirt over it and dark blue jeans that make it look like his legs go on forever. “Well at least we have the option for choosing ‘either’ on the questionnaire,” Peter says.

“And did you notice when it asks for your gender, there’s ‘male’ and ‘female’ and ‘other’? Not the best term, but it’s better than the regular two boxes,” Cora says, pointing to her screen.

“Oh, I didn’t notice that.” Peter leans over to look at Cora’s tablet and she pushes him away.

“Of course you didn’t,” she grumbles and goes back to her tablet.

The man leans towards Peter and whispers, “Hey, do you mind if I move to your table? I don’t think this guy here likes me.” He tilts his head to a muscled man who’s now glaring at his back.

“That’s fine, please join us.” Peter pushes a chair out with his foot and the man moves to the seat next to Peter.

“Thanks. I’m Stiles, by the way,” he says, reaching out his hand to shake Peter’s. Cora glances up and nods, continuing with her questionnaire.

“I’m Peter and this is Cora.” Peter reaches for the sign on the table that says Omega and flips it down. “That was bothering me anyway.”

“Thanks for letting me sit here, I swear I could hear that guy growling – and not in a good way,” Stiles whispers, glancing over his shoulder.

Peter smiles, turning his chair a little more towards Stiles. “He was probably worried no one would notice him, when there’s someone as attractive and obviously intelligent as you around.”

Cora rolls her eyes and sighs, “You’re flirting already? We’ve been here ten minutes. You’re incorrigible, I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Well, you are good at it,” Stiles says, chuckling. “I’m a terrible flirt, that’s one of the reasons I need to come to things like this. My friends told me that if I don’t make an effort, they’ll keep sending me on blind dates. Awful, awful blind dates.”

“Oh, I’m sure your flirting isn’t as bad as you think it is. Try one on me,” Peter says, grabbing two water bottles and handing one to Stiles.

“Umm, pressure pressure...” Stiles bites his lip and shakes his head. “Man, they’re really bad, are you sure you want to do this? You might make me leave.”

“Practice helps. Let’s hear what you’d say to a person you want to talk with.”

Stiles huffs out a breath and leans forward. “I warned you, this is going to be awful. How about, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

Peter smirks and raises an arm, flexing to show off a bicep that stretches the sleeve of his already tight t-shirt. “No, but I think I hurt my arm climbing out of hell.”

Stiles laughs and runs a hand through his hair. His questionnaire is face down on the table and he can’t stop grinning.

Cora looks up, wincing. “Oh god, I’m leaving.” She waves her hand in front of her nose as she shoves her chair back, standing with her tablet and grabbing a water bottle. “I’m going to go find another table that doesn’t smell so much like foreplay.”

“Smell?” Stiles asks as Cora stomps away. “You’re a werewolf?”

“Is that a problem?” Peter asks, keeping eye contact with the young man, who looks and smells edible, making his wolf rumble in his chest.

“No, no not at all. Except now I’m really self-conscious about how I smell. And I’m sorry I upset your…sister?”

“My niece. I’m basically here for moral support.” He gives the tablet a small push and whispers, “I really don’t have much faith in this sort of thing. Someone can look ideal on paper, but if there’s no spark…”

“Oh yeah, totally agree. Like I said, I’m trying to get friends off my back.” Stiles looks around the rapidly emptying room and says, “So are you going to try to finish it at all?”

He shrugs and that’s when Julie approaches them and asks, “How are you two doing? I hope you’re nearly done, because when you’ve finished, we have the bar reserved for our group and you can go mingle and meet some of the others here.”

Peter raises an eyebrow and asks, “If the questionnaire is supposed to get us an ideal partner, why are we mingling?”

Julie’s smile is huge and bright and she might be one of those peppy people who aren’t even faking it. “It’s always good to meet people, and maybe when we send you results, you’ll think ‘Oh I had a cocktail with that person!’ so it’s kind of like the first date is already done. Are you nearly done?”

“Could we complete the questionnaire in the bar, Julie?” Stiles asks, with a sickly sweet smile of his own. “Might answer better if we’re more relaxed.”

“No, no, no, I’m sorry, but the tablets can’t leave the room; I’m sure you understand,” she answers and sounds serious, but she’s still smiling.

“Could we get a drink and bring it in here and finish?” Peter asks, nudging Stiles’ knee with his own.

“Well… that’s probably okay,” she says, looking over her shoulder. “How about I pretend I don’t see you?”

“That works!” Stiles exclaims, nudging Peter back. “We’ll take care of that, and I promise we won’t be the last ones out of here.”

They both smirk when Julie walks away and Peter asks, “Do you want me to go grab a couple of drinks and bring them back? Or are we abandoning this?”

“I should probably try to finish,” Stiles sighs, looking at the tablet again. “My father will ask how it went and you know.”

“Then I’ll grab drinks.”

Peter’s about to get up when Cora puts two glasses on the table in front of them. “I’m surprised you’re still here. I’m going back to talk to a very nice woman I met, so I’ll see you later, Uncle Peter.” She kisses his head and tells Stiles, “Not shaming at all, but he’s a total slut. Ask him, he’ll tell you.”

Cora gives both their shoulders a pat and walks out, leaving Stiles hiding a grin behind his hand.

Stiles sips his drink and studies Peter. “So let me ask you a question. Is it true what they say about werewolves? About stamina and recovery time?”

“That’s what I’m told, although I don’t think it’s ever been studied. And it’s hard to tell when you’re on this side of the equation.” Peter sips his drink, watching Stiles lick his lips as he finishes whatever it was that Cora brought them. “I do wish there was a way to find out.”

“Well then, it’s lucky I work at a medical lab. We have blood pressure cuffs and heart rate monitors I could hook up and…”

Peter leans forward and sniffs to see if his lusty odor matches what he’s saying. “You do? That’s interesting, I guess.”

The younger man laughs and says, “No, you doof. But I do have an apartment with a queen size memory foam mattress. We can experiment there.”

They drop off their incomplete questionnaires at the desk with Julie. “We’re going to go mingle,” Stiles tells her.

“Great! Enjoy yourselves!” she calls out, setting their tablets on the stack next to her.

“Oh, we’ll try, Julie. Great mixer!” Stiles calls over his shoulder as they leave.

Peter bumps their shoulders together and lets his eyes flash. “I’d say this was a total success.”


End file.
